


Sometimes a Snake Is Just a Snake

by AstroGirl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Banter, Gen, inaccurate depictions in the media, tv commercials - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: Why aren't they taking him more seriously?  And why is he always green?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51
Collections: Gen Prompt Bingo Round 19





	Sometimes a Snake Is Just a Snake

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Gen Prompt Bingo. The prompt was "use of symbolism," but I've approached that from a slightly different direction and written something more about the characters' use _as_ symbols.

_From where he rests, wound around a protruding branch of the Tree, the serpent looks down at the leaf-clad human woman with a smile that has never belonged on any reptile, natural or otherwise. The noise the human makes as she bites into the delicacy in her hand is downright scandalous._

_The serpent swivels his head to stare at them, his smile, impossibly, widening. A voice booms out from an unseen source, a lush baritone that might, perhaps, belong to God Himself._

_"Braxleigh's Apple Delights," it intones._

_"Ssssssinfully delicioussss!" adds the snake. It winks, as the human moans again and reaches out to ask for more._

Crowley makes some sputtery, affronted noises and scowls at the television.

"I couldn't agree more," says Aziraphale. "I tried some of those last week, and I was thoroughly disappointed. I have come around to the idea of artificial flavorings as a general principle, you know, but they are by no means all of equal quality. I don't know what ill-advised product of human science they've employed in that confection, but it bears no resemblance whatsoever to an apple. Or to any other fruit, for that matter."

Crowley turns and stares at him. "What." It's barely a question. Possibly it might be an accusation.

"I said, the artificial flavoring--"

"I know what you-- I don't--- That's _really_ your problem with that advert? The artificial flavor?"

On the television in front of them, their program has come back on, but since it was the only thing they could agree on to watch, and thus only barely tolerable to either of them, it is extremely easy to ignore.

Aziraphale looks at him with an expression that aims for sympathetic but perhaps ends up somewhere more in the vicinity of long-suffering. "Oh, you're not happy with how they've depicted you? Again? I'd think you'd be used to it by now."

"I may be _used_ to it. Doesn't mean I like it. Doesn't mean I'm not allowed to get annoyed when it's... it's... shoved in my face like that!" He gestures wildly towards the screen. "I mean, for one thing, why am I always _green_? Eh? I've never been green in my life!"

"You're not _always_ green," says Aziraphale.

"Too bloody often!"

"I'm sure you'd look very nice in green," Aziraphale says. And then, as a thought hits him, "Oh!" He giggles.

Crowley gives him a look, the kind that says he probably doesn't want to know the answer to his next question, but feels compelled to ask it, anyway. "What?"

"Do you remember when they drew legs on you? In snake form? Because of the..." Aziraphale is laughing harder now. "Because of that line about being cursed to crawl on your belly, and someone thought that must mean you weren't crawling _before_?"

"Ugh! Don't remind me." Crowley wrinkles up his nose. "I looked ridiculous. Where did that line even come from, anyway? She never said anything like that to me. I'd remember. Pretty sure the last thing Her High-and-Almightiness ever did say to me was more along the lines of, 'Be banished to the pits of Hell, foul demon!' Don't quite remember the exact words, I admit. I was a bit distracted at the time, what with the being on fire."

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale says. He pats Crowley's hand. Crowley shrugs dismissively, but lets him do it. "Still. It's hardly the worst thing in the world, is it? Getting the color of your scales wrong. Honestly, I've never understood why you're so unhappy with how they remember you. I'd think you'd be quite proud, the way they still think of you as the ultimate symbol of temptation, even now."

"How ultimate of a symbol am I, though," says Crowley, not sounding especially comforted, "if they've got me tempting people to eat rubbish desserts that don't even taste like apples? It's a heaven of a step down from Original Sin, isn't it?"

"Well, _I_ think you're very tempting!"

"Don't patronize me, angel."

"Anyway, you actually did do the whole apple thing. And plenty of other temptations, too. Meanwhile, what have they made _me_ into a symbol of, when they remember I exist at all? I'm either an embodiment of divine wrath -- and you know me, Crowley, I've never been especially good at wrath--"

"Tell that to the people who shut down that Indian place you liked."

"That was entirely different!"

"How?"

"Oh, Crowley. Really. You've _had_ their curries. You _know_. Anyway, that isn't the point. The point is, all those depictions of an angel -- one who never looks anything like me, either, by the way -- standing at the Gate of Eden, flaming sword in hand, all ready to... to..."

"Get all smite-y?"

"Yes, precisely! To get all smite-y. It isn't really me, is it? Smiting was always more Sandalphon's line. But if they've remembered you as the tempter, the one who gives them things they enjoy, even if they were never meant to have them, I'm afraid they've got _me_ down as the one who took all the nice things away from them and threatened to kill them if they came back for any of it."

"Or as a sort of cosmic bouncer," says Crowley, sounding a bit more amused. "'Sorry, no re-entry without a handstamp!' Or, 'You must be at least this sin-free to enter!'"

"Yes. You see? It hardly seems fair." Aziraphale might actually be pouting a little now.

"Ehh, at least you never had anyone refer to you as a 'phallic symbol.' Which, now that I think about it, I wonder why not? What with the sword, and all."

"Oh, dear, yes, the Freudians!" says Aziraphale, his pout melting away into laughter again. "I'd nearly forgotten about that." 

"Phallic symbol! I mean, honestly! I didn't even have any genitals then. Human, snake, or otherwise. I was the least phallic thing that ever phallicked."

"Phallicked?" echoes Aziraphale.

"You know what I mean. _Humans._ They'll make anything about their... You know." He waves vaguely in the direction of his crotch.

"I'm sure I wouldn't," Aziraphale replies primly. 

Crowley snorts. "You know what? We should write our own account. Set the record straight for them. Establish you properly as the symbol of giving away flaming swords and swooning over cake."

"That is a thought," says Aziraphale slowly. "It might be fun. But do you really think it would stop them putting you in adverts?"

"Maybe they'd put me in _better_ adverts. Ones aimed at really cool people."

"Hmm. They'd probably still make you green, though."

"Nah. We'd make a point, like a really _big_ point, of specifying my not-green-ness. We could remind people of it every few pages."

"Well. That certainly sounds interesting. I shall look forward to reading it."

Crowley leans forward a bit and stares at him, his bare eyes widening. "What? No, no, no, no, angel, you're not going to be _reading_ the thing. You're going to be the one writing it."

"Me? But I'm not the one who's upset about being green. Or phallic. Or having my likeness conscripted to peddle truly dreadful food."

"Yeah, but you're the book one. Aren't you? So you have to write the book. Obviously."

"Oh, I see. Well. I suppose it could make for an interesting project. But..." 

"But?" says Crowley.

Aziraphale rests his hand on Crowley's again and gives him a look of deep, and deeply amused, fondness. "But, my dear, do you _really_ want me telling the entire world the truth about you? About how _good_ you are?"

"Angel! No!"

"And how _kind_. And how--"

"Errrrkkkkkgggghhh!"

"No?" says Aziraphale, patting his hand. "But, Crowley, you could hardly expect me to _lie_."

"Ugh, fine," says Crowley. "Okay. I changed my mind. No books."

Aziraphale almost looks disappointed. "Oh, but it might actually be good for the world to know--"

"Nope," says Crowley. "Naaaaah. You know what? You were right. I really don't look bad in green."

Aziraphale's hand curls gently around Crowley's. "Well, green or not," he says, "you could tempt me into an apple-flavored treat any time. A _good_ one, mind you."

Interestingly, that makes Crowley turn, not green, but very slightly pink. Aziraphale kindly decides not to mention it. 

"That a hint about you wanting me to take you out for dessert, it is?" Crowley says.

"Oh, you wily tempter," says Aziraphale. "I do believe you've done it again."

"You gonna moan like Eve in the advert?" Crowley says, shutting the television off with a snap.

"I should certainly hope so," Aziraphale replies, and perhaps it's just as well the humans have never attempted to depict him accurately, because they could never have captured that improbable angelic smirk.

Crowley grins back at him, even more widely than his animated counterpart, turns his head as if looking into a camera, and winks.


End file.
